


Rising With Fleas

by BlackBat09



Category: Batman (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Come as Lube, Degradation, F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Internal Conflict, Loss of Identity, M/M, Past Character Death, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 11:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19062025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBat09/pseuds/BlackBat09
Summary: That’s what you get for lying with the Hound.





	Rising With Fleas

**Author's Note:**

> please heed the rape warnings, i’m really serious about this not being consensual.

Cold green eyes aren’t something Slade is unused to, when Talia calls.

It’s usually not _these_ cold green eyes, though.

Talia is still there, perched on the chair in the corner, watching Slade with a tiny smile on her painted mouth that he knows far too well.

“Why is he here, Talia?” Slade doesn’t like to talk about him instead of _to_ him, like he’s furniture or a pet, but the kid is used to it at this point, really, so he continues looking his mistress in the eye as she taps her lacquered nails against the side of her jaw.

“Does him being here bother you, Slade?”

Does the Hound bother Slade? That’s a good question.

It’s less about him as he is now; standing at Talia’s side, ramrod-straight, hands clasped behind his back, clothes immaculately tailored; and more about what he _used_ to be. Slade remembers him before, when he was young, when the sharp lines of his face were still soft with baby fat and his dark hair curled around his head like a halo, cherubic up until he opened his smart mouth. He remembers fighting him, being taunted even as Slade came closer and closer to beating him within an inch of his life, so much faith in his own skill and the Bat always being there to save his ass.

Jason Todd. The second Robin. Bright and full of life, fighting at Batman’s side, _laughing_ in the face of danger, absolutely unlike what he is now, what death, and the Lazarus Pit, and Talia’s _meddling_ have done to him: now, that’s all gone. And that _loss_ is truly what makes Slade’s skin crawl.

“Whether it bothers me or not doesn’t answer the question. Why is he _here_?” he repeats.

She shrugs, languid, liquid, settling back in her seat and smiling behind her hand as Slade’s gaze moves back to Jason. “I thought we might make things more interesting.”

“You haven’t complained yet.”

“That doesn’t mean there isn’t room for growth, Slade,” Talia chides gently, “or change. I assumed the Hound would be a welcome addition.”

Did she, now. “And if I said no?” he asks, watching Jason’s face for any sign of change. He only seems to respond, even slightly, when his name is spoken, but it’s not enough of a spark that Slade could even call it recognition or _life_ : just a slight shift in how he holds himself, a change in the dilation of his pupils. Talia just scoffs at him.

“We all know your _proclivities_ , let’s not pretend. He may be less talkative than the one you harass, but he’s still a Robin, isn’t he? Dark hair, light eyes, a pretty face,” she trails off, reaching to lay her hand against Jason’s bicep and squeezing gently. Still nothing. Not even the mention of his past seems to rouse him from his stupor, just letting Talia touch him. “He’s responsive, I assure you. Sings so sweetly.”

That she _knows_ makes Slade’s teeth grind, trying to ignore the heat her words stoke in his gut. Talia’s right and he hates it, that Jason is beautiful, tall and muscled from his dip in the Pit, the gentle curve of his lips and the long brush of his lashes against his cheeks when he blinks those empty eyes drawing Slade’s gaze. The thought has crossed his mind before, but the kid’s barely alive; it’s not right.

“Isn’t he practically braindead?” Slade manages to ask, voice rough, and Talia smirks, taking it as pure arousal rather than the mix of arousal and discomfort that Slade is fighting.

“Do you really care, Wilson?” she asks.

Yes, dammit, he wants to tell her. She clicks her tongue gently, murmurs something to Jason, and he looks at Slade and smiles, a little playful, a little mischievous.

Ignoring his blank eyes, he almost looks alive.

Slade’s gut clenches. “I’ll do it.”

The satisfaction on Talia’s face makes his skin crawl, but she’s already patting Jason’s lower back, urging him forward before Slade can take back his words. “Go to him, _chelb_.”

She says it like a pet name when they both know it’s an insult, and a harsh one, at that, but Jason only seems to respond to the order, crossing the hotel room to stand in front of Slade, looking up at him with that coy smirk still pulling at his mouth.

“What would you like him to do, Slade?” Talia asks, leaned forward in her chair to watch the way Slade looks Jason over, trying to avoid those dead green eyes. When he doesn’t answer, she sighs, clicking her tongue again before speaking to Jason in Arabic. “See if he is aroused. Rectify it if he is not.”

Even with the warning, Slade jolts when Jason’s palm slips across the front of his jeans, fingers curling around his still-soft cock as the boy’s eyes search his face. It’s not clear what he sees; maybe Slade’s face is as conflicted as the shudder crawling up his spine; but it has Jason sinking to his knees, pulling open Slade’s belt and his fly, the heat of his fingers seeping through the thin fabric of Slade’s briefs. The _illusion_ of eagerness is enough to make his cock twitch, and Slade sees Talia smirk in his peripherals. Dammit.

It doesn’t take another command for Jason to lean in and press his mouth against Slade’s shaft, hot breath and even hotter tongue dampening the fabric between them as he laps at Slade, trying to coax him to hardness, and he thinks about what that means to keep from letting himself give in so quick. How many times has the Hound been sent out as a honey trap, he wonders, for him to be so at ease with this? How many of the League’s enemies have died at his hands after falling for those empty eyes, that eerie silence? Do they just think he’s playing coy, when he doesn’t speak, or are they just too damn horny and _stupid_ to care?

Can he really feel superior when he bites his tongue at the feeling of Jason’s calloused hands against his bare skin, eye drifting down to watch him pull Slade’s mostly-limp cock from his damp briefs and swallow him down without hesitation?

Even soft, Slade knows he’s big, thick, but it doesn’t hinder Jason in the least, his jaw stretched wide to accommodate him, the tip of his pink tongue laying against his bottom lip as he pushes it out to make more room for Slade’s tip in his tight throat. It finally gets a _sound_ from Jason, too, the wet noise of a half-aborted gag as he pushes himself down, and it takes an inordinate amount of self-control for Slade not to thrust his hips up, try and hear Jason choke on his cock again.

He doesn’t have enough self-control to pull out of Jason’s mouth, though, letting him bob his head shallowly, wet heat and suction and the flutter of those pretty lashes finally making the blood rush to Slade’s cock. It fills out in Jason’s mouth, down his _throat_ , wet sounds and Slade’s own harsh breathing in his ears that make him feel like he’s losing his fucking mind, not to mention how Jason just fucking _takes_ it. No _wonder_ he was successful: who fucking cares if the boy can’t talk when he’s got your cock in his mouth, swallowing around you like he wants nothing more than your cum down his throat?

“ _Christ_.”

He’s good. _So_ fucking good. Slade wants to know who taught him to suck cock and thank them for their expertise, then fucking _geld_ them to make sure they never touch the kid again. He doesn’t even know _when_ Jason learned this, if it’d been after he came back, after the Pit, some faceless assassins forcing their dicks down his throat until his face was messy with spit and snot and bile, tears streaming down his face as Talia watched him learn to stop gagging. If it’d been Ra’s honor to train Jason to swallow like this, warming the Demon’s Head’s cock like any of his servants would’ve been eager to.

Or maybe he learned before.

It shouldn’t make Slade’s hips jerk, the quiet thought of Jason learning this as Robin, but it _does_ and he _takes_ it and Slade _finally_ lets himself fist a hand in that soft black hair, chopped too short to curl but just the right length to grab and hold as he thrusts up to meet the bob of Jason’s head, hear that fucking _noise_ as he throbs in Jason’s mouth. Maybe it’d been the Bat, sick and tired of that smart fucking mouth, giving him a lesson in shutting the hell up and following orders that would finally stick around, like the taste of cum on the back of his tongue. But no, Brucie’s _repressed_ ; even if he’d thought about it, he never would’ve had the _balls_ to make little Jason his like that.

But Nightwing- _fuck_ , Slade groans, shoving himself deeper into Jason’s mouth, his throat convulsing so prettily around the tip of his cock- isn’t so uptight. No, Grayson’s hungry for it, all the time, and not shy about letting it show, having definitely fucked his way through his team on more than one occasion (including Slade’s own _son_ , but his issues with Grayson touching Joey can wait until later). He’d take his little replacement, his little brother, and show him the ropes, running those bright blue stripes through Jason’s curls and praising him sweetly for every inch he took until he was coming down his tight little throat.

“Perfect, isn’t he?” Talia asks, and Slade bites back a snarl at the reminder that he and Jason aren’t alone, that the boy isn’t here for him, that he’s barely here at all beyond what Talia asks of him. They’re both here for her enjoyment, her entertainment.

A grunt is the only answer she gets before Slade twists his fingers tighter and starts to fuck Jason’s face like he _means_ it, disrupting the boy’s rhythm with his own and relishing in the way he gags and chokes until he adjusts, each spasm of his throat milking the tip of Slade’s dick and urging him faster, harder.

“Make it clean, _chelb_ ,” she murmurs, with that fucking insult again, but Jason follows the order eagerly, and Slade can feel him swallow each time he thrusts in deep, obviously ready to not waste a drop when Slade comes. His blood rushes in his ears, nearly missing Talia’s quiet words to Jason,  “Don’t be shy. He’ll be ready for you again soon.”

They both know Slade’s stamina is something to behold, after the serum, but for her to be so obvious about _using_ it, to watch Jason get filled again and again-

A low groan is the only warning Jason gets before Slade tugs him in by his hair, face buried in the white curls above Slade’s cock as he comes, feeling him swallow with each pulse of cum and letting the vice grip of his throat coax him back to hardness even after his face turns a breathless red. Shoving Jason off, the kid crumples to the floor, silent but for the slight panting as he tries to catch his breath, the tightness in his jeans going ignored as he stares with wet eyes at Slade’s cock.

Still nothing. Still empty, vacant, the lights on upstairs but no one’s home but the dog.

That he’s still _this fucking hard_ for the kid feels more damning than a lot of shit he’s done in his life.

“Good,” Talia praises softly, and Jason swallows between his panting, the flush of his skin lessening as he fills his lungs, licking spit from his lips as Slade watches him and tries not to think about how fucked this is. “Undress. Show yourself to him.”

A striptease from a dead man, Slade thinks, Jason rising from the floor like he’s being pulled up by a string rather than climbing to his feet, deft fingers tugging down the zipper of his dark leather jacket, shrugging it off his broad shoulders and leaving it in a heap as he starts on his belt. His boots follow, socks shoved away before he finally starts on his jeans, not even taking the time to palm his surely-aching erection. It’s somehow both erotic and utterly sexless, the click of the zipper’s teeth revealing the black fabric that clings to his skin beneath his jeans, the lack of... _anything_ , really, of so much that’s missing as Jason peels the tight denim down his thick thighs and kicks it away.

Slade figures he should take this time to undress himself, not particularly interested in being stripped by those clinical hands, and Talia huffs a slight noise of disappointment that he only answers with a glare. She’s unimpressed. “Any preference this time, Slade, or shall I keep hold of his leash?”

He doesn’t know why he glances at Jason; it’s not like he’ll have an opinion; but it’s a pretty picture nonetheless, stalling Slade’s irritable reply to Talia’s comment as he just _looks_. Jason’s not cut in that pointless bodybuilder style, a slight layer of softness over his abdomen that folds and ripples as he finishes tossing aside his shirt, the same softness that makes his thighs so damn attractive, why Slade wouldn’t mind them wrapped around his hips. There’s not a hint of shame, either, not for the myriad scars littering his soft skin or for the way his cock bobs, flushed and weeping pre, between his legs, and, despite all his misgivings, he wants to _devour_ Jason.

“Hands and knees on the bed, boy,” he grunts, and Talia smiles, repeats the instructions in Arabic and watches with heavy-lidded eyes as Jason moves past Slade, crawls up on the middle of the bed and presents himself the way he’d been told to. Slade follows, on his knees behind the boy, the scarred plane of his back and tightly muscled ass laid out for Slade to touch, tracing his sides and squeezing the slight give at his hips before gripping his cheeks, pulling them apart to watch the flex of his dusky hole.

“You could have him just like this,” Talia murmurs, a light in her eyes just this side of sadistic, one that makes Slade’s jaw tighten as he looks away from her again. “He’d be a tight fit, but he knows how to take it.”

It’s another statement that makes Slade’s gut clench, conflicted, watching as Jason doesn’t even flinch at the violent suggestion. He doesn’t doubt that the boy’s been forced to take that sort of brutality before, in the state he’s in, with the work he does, and the thought of it; his muscles tensing in pain, whimpering as a thick cock is forced inside him, blood slicking the way with each thrust deeper into his tight hole; makes Slade’s cock throb even as bile licks up the back of his throat.

“Might surprise you, Talia, but I don’t like the idea of chafing my dick raw,” Slade mutters venomously, squeezing Jason’s firm ass again before leaning down to drag his tongue up the cleft, lapping at his tight hole and feeling it flutter as Jason’s thighs tense, probably unsure of the sensation. He doubts the boy gets this sort of treatment often, but Slade wants to taste him, the soap and salt on his skin, wetting it thoroughly before scrubbing his beard against him and hearing Jason’s breath catch.

Fucking _finally_.

He can feel Talia’s eyes on him, probably glaring, but Slade’s not particularly concerned with her at the moment; she’d forfeited his attentions when she brought someone else for him to fuck, and the kid deserves a nice ride for having to put up with Talia and her shit. Eye falling shut, Slade presses his face closer, fingertips probably pressing bruises into Jason’s ass as Slade works him open with his tongue, dragging the tip against his walls again and again before sucking at his rim, relishing in the little wheeze it pulls from Jason. Even if she is an evil bitch, Talia hadn’t been wrong about the sounds Jason makes, the aborted whimpers as Slade fucks his tongue into his tight hole making Slade’s balls ache, eager to bury himself inside Jason once he’s had his fill of eating him out.

The stress in Slade’s jaw is worth every noise he gets in return, letting go of one of Jason’s cheeks to slide his hand between his thighs, rolling his balls in his palm before gripping Jason’s dripping cock, stroking it in time with each thrust and lap of his tongue in Jason’s ass. His body tenses again, leaking precum across Slade’s hand, and Slade nips at his rim just to feel the shudder that travels through him, opening his eye to glance at their voyeur.

“How d’you make him come?” he asks lazily, squeezing Jason’s pretty dick and getting an equally pretty sound as the muscles in Talia’s jaw jump.

“I could just as easily have him kill you,” she hisses, but Slade just smirks in response, twisting his wrist and _squeezing_ the flushed tip of Jason’s cock so the kid gasps, seemingly oblivious to his mistress’ anger. “You may finish.”

Jason chokes on a sound and jerks his hips into Slade’s grip, spilling into his palm and across his fingers as Slade cups the head of his cock, his hot cum pooling in Slade’s hand and rim fluttering on his tongue. He’s soft and wet, spreading open easily when Slade’s thumb pulls at his hole, and the sight would probably have a lesser man shoving in right then and there.

Slade is tempted.

Instead, he thrusts two cumstained digits inside Jason, the _keen_ he lets out as his arms shake making Slade’s continued patience worth it. He’s already slick with spit, but the pearly sheen and wet sounds of fucking his own cum into him as lube are too fucking pretty to resist, Jason’s head dropping with a shuddering breath as Slade pumps his fingers deeper, scissoring him open to watch his muscles fight against the stretch before relaxing again. “That’s it, boy,” he mutters, adding a third thick digit as he presses back in, searching Jason’s walls with his fingertips until he finds the spot that makes him groan softly. “Open up for me.”

It’s only when Jason is shaking, shining with sweat and cum, that Slade stops abusing his prostate, pulls his fingers from the hot clutch of his ass and replaces them with his cock, wet with a mix of Jason’s cum and his own pre as he slowly presses inside Jason. He’s still so damn tight, enough that it takes some time to get the tip past his rim, but the way the boy shivers when it pops inside, the way he flutters around Slade, so hot and greedy, is nothing short of an aphrodisiac. Slade’s out of his mind on it, shoving more of his cock into Jason just to feel him writhe, hear the strained whimper when he carves him open.

Talia’s presence and everything that’s been done to the poor boy beneath him are forgotten in favor of reaching to fist his hand in Jason’s damp hair and shove his face into the sheets, leaning over him until the arch of his back is nearly as obscene as his wordless whine when Slade bottoms out. The drag of his cock out makes him shudder, a breathy little sound escaping into the covers before Slade thrusts back in, hard, feeling Jason clench around him as his moan jumps in pitch. It’s all too easy to fuck into him from there, each crack of Slade’s hips against his tight ass, his legs against Jason’s fat thighs, accompanied by another noise that makes Slade’s fingers flex into Jason’s flesh, bruises reddening at his hips and waist every time Slade drags Jason back on his cock even harder.

Some reasonable part of Slade knows how utterly fucked this is, that Jason, no, the _Hound_ , is barely anything more than a bundle of deadly instincts and muscle and scar tissue, that the punched-out little sounds he’s making are edging towards pain as each quick pump of Slade’s hips renders the cum slicking the way useless, but _fuck_ if he doesn’t look and sound better than anyone Slade’s buried his cock in for a while now, present company included. His rim clings to Slade’s dick, hot and tight, every twitch and flex of his body fucking heavenly, and he pulls back until only the head is inside before he comes, so that the next thrust is wet with cum all the way through, Slade’s cock still hard inside him.

“Fuck, kid.”

“As good as promised, isn’t he?” Talia asks softly, and, goddamn it-

“ _Better_ ,” Slade growls, bending to sink his teeth into the rippling muscles of Jason’s back. The angle of his thrusts changes and the boy squeaks, whimpering softly as Slade sucks a bruise beside his shoulder blade, and then another, covering soft skin and scars alike with the imprint of his teeth, his tongue lathing over the scattered freckles on his skin.

“Turn him over, Slade. Look at what you’ve done to him,” she urges, and only then does he hesitate, thrusts stuttering even as Jason whines under him, squirms, and Slade squeezes his hips to ground him without thinking. There’s a _reason_ he’d put Jason like this, and he’s sure Talia knows it damn well, but the boy seems determined to follow his mistress’ orders, shifting under the pressure of his body until Slade growls and gives in, pulling out to toss Jason on his back.

His chest is rosy from rubbing against the hotel covers, nipples dark and hard as Slade gropes his pecs, his flushed cock slapping against his abs and rendering the dark hair between his legs sticky as he drips down his shaft. The fingerprints Slade’s left on his hips and thighs are already starting to purple as Jason lifts his legs to let Slade slot in between, pretty, obedient, needy- 

And then Slade glances at up at his face, those dead green eyes, and has to shudder, shoving back inside Jason hard before those empty eyes can kill the heat in his gut.

He can handle the feelings, the sounds, the sight of his cock disappearing into the tight, wet grip of Jason’s ass; can almost, _almost_ , shut his eye and pretend Jason came to him, begged for him, that he’s too fucked out for anything but those sweet little whines; but, inside, Slade _knows_. Talia brought Jason here, suggested including him, with all the gravitas of suggesting ropes or a little light choking, like Jason was a toy and not a fucking _person_ , and Slade had gone with it, despite the guilt that eats at his stomach with every slick thrust. Making Jason come is the only cold comfort he has, eating him out and stroking that sweet cock like it’ll make this something more reciprocal than Slade fucking into a husk that used to be a Robin, a hero, a _man_.

Hitching Jason’s legs higher on his hips, Slade leans over him, arm planted beside his head to obscure Talia’s view as Slade mouths at Jason’s jaw, sucks bruises into his warm skin. “You’re so good,” he murmurs, barely a breath, Jason’s throat clicking as he rams his cock into him again and again, their sounds covering Slade’s words. “Good boy, Jason.”

Jason’s heels dig into his back, a choked sob escaping as he clenches down on Slade’s cock and shakes, cum striping across his sweaty chest without ever touching his dick. It’s unbearably, unfairly sexy, Slade groaning low against the boy’s neck as he fucks him through his orgasm, each wet smack of his softening cock in the mess on his abs and whiny noise in his throat serving to push Slade closer, his aching balls slapping against those tight cheeks with every quick thrust.

“So fucking good, Jason,” he growls again, rhythm stuttering until he’s burying himself as deep as he can to pump his cum inside, earning another whimper that Slade shushes, stroking one of Jason’s thighs with a free hand as he continues to mouth at his throat.

It’s only when he starts going soft that Slade pulls out, the wet sound of Jason’s cum-filled insides drawing a shudder from Slade before he disentangles himself from the boy completely, cold blue eye sweeping from the fucked-out boy on the bed to his mistress, still perched in her chair, the slightest flush on her cheeks as she shoots Slade a smile.

“Beautiful, Slade. Absolutely,” she praises, and he licks his lips, trying to abate some of the dryness of his mouth before he can reply.

“Anything I can do for you now?”

The way she smiles and shakes her head renews the miserable ache in Slade’s gut, the soft click of her tongue confirming what he’d expected but was hoping not to see: Jason lifts his head, pushing himself to sitting with shaking arms and looking at Talia expectantly. “He’ll attend to my needs. Won’t you, _chelb_?” she purrs, and Slade glances at Jason, watches him nod blankly and nearly flinches before gathering his clothes from the carpet.

“In that case, I’ll be on my way,” he mutters in reply, dressing quickly as Jason climbs off the bed and makes his way to sit at Talia’s feet, still naked and filthy.

Slade straightens once he’s dressed, nodding to Talia and giving Jason the briefest glance before he heads out of the hotel room, head down. There’s still a heavy feeling in his gut, a foreboding feeling that tells him _never again_ , but he thinks that maybe, just maybe, in that last look, he saw a spark of life in those cold green eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me at blackbat16 on tumblr or BlackBat09 on twitter!


End file.
